


The Strange Workings of The Riddle House

by SilverCherie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Jekyll and Hyde AU, Kinda?, anyways i tried to make something out of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 08:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14786870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverCherie/pseuds/SilverCherie
Summary: " It was on the moral side, and in my own person, that I learned to recognise the thorough and primitive duality of man" - The Strange Case of Dr.Jekyll and Mr.Hyde





	The Strange Workings of The Riddle House

**Author's Note:**

> Here's Cherie again with a different story. 
> 
> My attempt at a longer one shot. I am eternally thank to my two beta readers from tumblr who gave amazing suggestions (and li i shamelessly accepted all of them because they are brilliant): lightninginmyeyes (cassie) and nxrcissamxlfoy (adrenne). I cannot thank you two enough!!

As a journalist for the Daily Prophet for the past 5 years, Ginny Weasley has seen more than her share of the good and the bad that humanity had to offer. Her experience gave her a knack to predict what would come from a particular assignment.

 

But, as she continued her never ending drive through the dense woods of Dalby Forest towards the location of her latest assignment, her gut instinct still hadn’t kicked in.

 

Her boss tossed the assignment file on her desk late Friday afternoon, just as she was about to leave for the weekend. After several arguments and many profanities were thrown back and forth between the two, he finally agreed to extending her time off to a week in exchange for her consent to take the job.

 

“Just don’t expect to hear or see anything from me until I get back the week after,” was her closing statement as she walked out of the office, disappearing down the hall before he could protest.

 

‘ _At least there’s no way he could reach me here,’ she thought, slowing down to take a curve in the road_

 

Her phone and GPS lost signal about an hour ago—not that she needed it. There was only a single lane road and, from the looks of it, it accommodated both directions of traffic—whatever little it got.

 

She squinted. Though the road was easy to see, it did not run straight, curving at every opportunity. Ahead, Ginny saw a small sign nailed onto a tree at the next bend. As her car approached it, she saw that it read, “Riddle House - 20 kilometers ahead”.

 

The familiar unease finally rumbled in her stomach.

 

_As Ginny drank her third cup of coffee for the night, she poured over her notes before her journey the next day._

 

_The Riddle House was a fairly new psychiatric center that quickly became the talk of the nation a few months ago. Newsreels and talk shows raved and praised its founder and owner, Dr. Tom Riddle, for his groundbreaking facility and patient care practices. To top it off, it was, in Riddle’s own words, “open exclusively to those who neither had the network or affordability to cope with their mental illness”._

 

_At first glance, it was a dream come true for those in need._

 

_But somehow it seemed too good to be true._

 

_She pulled out a clipping from her assignment file titled “The Riddle House-- the modern marvel of psychiatry!” with a picture of a bespectacled man with a thin face. He was in a suit, beaming straight at the camera. On his right stood his parents; his father, a mirror image of him with grays and wrinkles and his mother, a petite woman with thick red hair. Both were just as happy as their son, Harry James Potter._

 

_Ginny’s eyes softened. She once dated Harry a long time ago in school. It was a young love that eventually faded as time passed by but she still heard news of him, of course; him being the son of the  CEO of a pharmaceutical company hardly allowed for one to keep a low profile. He’d went on to specialize in the sciences—his passion to help others being something he’d wanted to carry with him, even when he one day took over the company. To find a breakthrough in medicine that would help the sick and vulnerable—that was his goal._

 

_But with that position came stress and pressure and a deep impact on his mental well being. According to the article, that was when Harry reached out to his good friend Tom from college. To not only seek treatment for himself, but to also open doors for others who, unlike him, did not have the fiscal means to do so._

 

_She smiled to herself. ‘Typical Harry. Always the hero.’_

 

_Her eyes shifted to the left of the happy family; there was another man. He was around the same height as Harry. With his cheekbones high and jawline sharp, his face holding none of the gentleness that Harry’s did. His eyes were a dark brown, as if trying to pierce through her soul. But what unnerved her most was his small smile. There was something behind it, but Ginny just couldn’t put her finger on what it was._

 

‘ _This must be Riddle,’ she thought._

 

_She turned back to her laptop. Her search results didn’t show much on Tom Riddle. He was a well-renowned doctor in Yorkshire, working for the college he graduated from, University of Sheffield. Prior to his time there, however, there was no record of him. He was a complete mystery and yet, he managed to keep it that way from the public and the media._

 

_What was he hiding?_

 

_Ginny picked up the newspaper clipping again. She stared at it until another suspicion clicked._

 

_Opening a new tab, she searched for any latest articles on Harry._

 

_Something gnawed at her stomach._

 

_Nothing. Nothing since the article about  the success of the Riddle House. It was as if he disappeared._

 

_Right when Riddle appeared._

* * *

 

She arrived at the gates of the Riddle House before dusk. As she pulled in, uphill towards the front door, she gasped at the facility. Calling it a house was an understatement. It was a manor on top of a hill that was framed by forest on all sides, had walls lined with ivory perfectly in place. In front of the house was a fountain in the shape of an angel, wings spread to the sky as if it were about to take flight.

 

Ginny finally pulled up to the front entrance where a dark-haired woman seemed to be waiting for her at the steps.

 

“Hello,” greeted the woman as Ginny gathered her belongings and made her way to the stairs, “You must be Ginevra Weasley. I’m Bellatrix Lestrange. Dr. Riddle has been expecting you.”

 

“Uh, yes. Thanks,” she responded with uncertainty . “And please, call me Ginny. Ginevra sounds like I’m in trouble.”

 

She let out a small laugh, but the woman only stared blankly in return. Ginny cleared her throat.

 

“Right, please lead the way.”

 

The interior was just as impressive. A corridor led them both to the main part of the house, composed of the dining area and the sitting room.  A fireplace sat right next to the sitting area, and behind the dining table was the entrance to the kitchen. To her right, Ginny saw a long corridor with two doors on each side, presumably patient quarters. A stairwell leading to the second level sat right behind the sitting room.

 

“You must be Ginevra Weasley.”

 

She turned to her right to see none other than Dr. Riddle come out of one of the patient rooms.

 

“Yes, I am. Nice to meet you,” she replied as she stuck her own hand for a handshake. “You  must be the world-famous Dr. Riddle.”

 

He let out a small laugh, taking her hand. ‘ _At least he reacts like a normal human being.’_

 

“World-famous may be a little extreme, don’t you think?”

 

“Well, at the unusual rate that your popularity has risen, it is a definite possibility.” Riddle’s eyes darkened for a moment before reverting back to their usual charm. He let go of  her hand quickly.

 

‘ _What was that about?’_

 

“Well, why don’t we sit down? You must have had quite the drive up here.”

 

She sat herself across from him on the couch near the fireplace and pulled out her notepad and recorder. After running through the usual list of questions about the center—which could easily have been researched through a simple online search—she decided to ask him some of her own pressing ones.

 

“Dr. Riddle, at this point, I’d like to know more about you and your background, if you don’t mind me asking.”

 

He smiled. “Well I was an employee at the University of Sheffield—”

 

“Forgive me,” Ginny interrupted. “I should have been more clear. What I meant was more of where you’re from and your family. Perhaps even some more detail about your friendship with Mr. Harry Potter.”

 

He paused, his expression more serious.

 

With no response from him, she continued, “In one of the first articles published about The Riddle House, it noted that Mr. Potter was the one who sought _you_ out for treatment. There was also mention of you two being good friends. If you could expand on that, it would definitely be insightful for us at The Daily Prophet and to our readers.”

 

A pasted smile appeared on his face. “Of course, of course. Yes, Harry and I were good friends, of course, both attending the University of Sheffield—“

 

“Was that where you two met?”

 

“Oh no, in fact we’ve known each other since childhood.”

 

Ginny’s eyes widened at that comment.

 

Riddle must have noticed as well as he stopped mid-response. “Is something the matter?”

 

Ginny tried her best to keep herself composed and her tone professional. “You must have ran in the same circles as his other acquaintances; Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and Cedric Diggory. Were you close with them as well?”

 

Riddle leaned back, his posture relaxed. “Yes, I was. We’ve all stuck together for quite a while, but Harry and I especially have been inseparable.”

 

_Except she had met them all, and Tom Riddle was never once seen or mentioned._

 

_He was no friend of theirs._

 

_So then who was he?_

 

She then decided to change the subject for her own sake.

 

“What would you say is the one distinct aspect of your practice that separates your center from the others? We’ve seen and heard testimonials from your former patients. What makes your practices a more viable solution?”

 

He leaned forward. “We, as a species, have spent centuries attempting to treat mental illness from snake pits to asylums to psychiatrists. But all these are just that—treatments to keep the illness at bay. I believe that that core of the problem is much deeper.”

 

“As in..?”

 

He stood up, his eyes never leaving hers. “Human nature,” he responded. “You see, in each human, there are layers within him that should ideally work in unison to help him succeed. But, for some, mental illness is this one piece that goes against the tide. Everyone has this block that prevents them from truly achieving their potential, in one way or another. It can be in the form of anything, be it self-imposed or through a higher authority.”

 

Ginny’s eyebrows raised. “You mean the conscience.”

 

Tom smile widened. “In more simplistic terms, yes. Take Ms.Bellatrix for example. When she arrived here, she had run out of options. Manic depression, the doctors told her. She had only known treatments that would contain the symptoms of her illness. But it was my methods that gave her a real solution. Her problem was just one side of her that did not align itself with the rest of her, and so, it needed to be removed. And from that moment on, she was freed from _herself._ ”

 

Ginny frowned at his response. Bellatrix’s blank expression gave no impression of a woman who was relieved from inner demons. Rather, she resembled someone who was smothered by them.

 

“You disagree, Ginevra?”

 

She looked back at him and shook her head. “I don’t see it. Perhaps it’s my lack of knowledge in behavior and psychological fields, but Bellatrix hasn’t displayed any signs that she’s now free from her illness. How do we know that your methods are foolproof?”

 

For a split second, his expression darkened. Ginny could have sworn the whites of his eyes had turned black. _Definitely struck a nerve there._

 

But a moment later, his earlier demeanor had returned with the same wide smile plastered on his face.

 

“The real proof is what isn’t there anymore. Bellatrix suffered from the mood swings caused by her mind. You look at her now and what do you see? A calm and productive woman, no longer hindered by it.”

 

“So you dissect her mind? Separate the unwanted from the patient?”

 

He gave a small chuckle.

 

“Haven’t you ever wanted to just let your thoughts spill without another part of your brain filtering them for easier consumption for those around you? To pursue your desires without any inhibition. And let those blocks and those weaknesses be separated from you. Or even… kill them off if, you have to.”

 

His words sent a shiver down her spine. He continued to stare intently at her until Bellatrix came in to announce that dinner was ready for them.

 

After that interview, Ginny really didn’t have much of an appetite.

* * *

 

She saw Harry, running frantically around the house. Ginny chased after him, calling out his name in order to catch up.

 

“Harry!” He didn’t hear her; instead he ran towards the front door and yanked on it. But it wouldn’t budge.

 

_What is he doing here?_

 

She finally caught up to him and turned him around to face her.

 

“Harry, it’s me Ginny! What is going on?”

 

He looked terrified, his glasses on the bridge of his nose and his face drenched in sweat.

 

He grabbed her shoulders.

 

“Ginny, listen you have to know. You have to know but you can’t tell anyone. If anyone-- anyone knew what happened here –what’s happening here—you just need to know! “

 

“Harry, you’re not making sense! Tell me what?”

 

He dropped to the floor, his hands over his head as he let out a painful groan.

 

“No—NO! Not yet. I need—Ginny! You have to look at my face—the scar—forehead, my scar—”

 

His body began to thrash, his limbs flailing uncontrollably. His groans turned to screams as his face and body contorted. His thin face began to change, cheekbones more pronounced and--

 

“AHH!”

 

Ginny awoke with a scream and a cold sweat. Sunlight beamed into the spare room Dr. Riddle prepared for her. She could hear the birds chirping happily outside her window.

 

A gentle knock at the door followed by Bellatrix’s voice announcing breakfast was ready calmed her.

 

As she went through her morning ritual, Harry’s last words kept ringing in her head.

 

“ _Look at my face—_ _the scar –forehead,_ _my scar—”_

 

She shook her head. It was just a bad dream.

 

It was time for her to leave. Spending one night was enough to last an entire lifetime. She quickly packed her belongings, organized her notes and loaded them into her car.

 

“I’d like to thank you again for your hospitality and the interview Dr. Riddle.” She shook his hand.

 

“You are most welcome, Ginevra. I look forward to the next time you come to visit.”

* * *

 

Ginny arrived late that night to her flat, exhausted from her drive. She unpacked her notes on her desk, prepared  to write her article the next day. The Modern Marvel of Psychiatry article laid on top, Harry’s smile radiating on it.

 

She smiled and continued to pull out the rest of her papers.

 

“— _the scar –forehead,_ _my scar—”_

 

She froze.

 

The scar. An indent right over his right eyebrow usually covered over by his hair, but she’s seen a thousand times when she played with his hair.

 

She slowly picked up the picture again, not sure what to expect.

 

As she looked closely, her eyes widened. One hand covered her mouth.

 

She saw the scar. Just not on Harry.

 

“ _Let those blocks and those weaknesses be separated from you. Or kill them off if you have to.”_

  
  



End file.
